The Hooded Girl
by drama fixated
Summary: No one ever knew that night that she was there, hidden in a corner, covered by shadows . . . except for one. A very different retelling of Cinderella.
1. Part 1: The Announcement

Disclaimer: Well, "Cinderella" certainly isn't mine, but the CHANGED plot belongs to me, as do everything else. So do me a favor and don't land yourself in jail for life by stealing other people's things. And please review!   
  
Part 1: The Announcement  
  
Bright and early did Amity rise; not even the crickets were chirping or the birds were singing their heads off. Not a sign or sound was to be heard. Even the house was silent, save for the wind breezing in through the windows. The sound that had made Amity rouse was the neighing of the horses in the barn behind the house. With a start, Amity shot up in bed. Oh, no, she thought, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of her stomach. I forgot to feed the horses after dinner! Quickly she got of bed, got ready, put her tattered shoes on, and rushed downstairs. Yesterday had been an exhausting day for Amity. Her father had had guests for dinner, so she had to cook, run errands after that, and clean up after the guests (who had left a VERY gigantic mess). She also had to be careful to keep out of sight of both the guests and her father. 

Ever since her mother had died when Amity was five, her father had turned aloof towards everybody, including Amity, and had disowned his daughter. So Amity counted herself lucky to be even LIVING in a house, instead of out on the town streets, begging for food or money, depending on what she would have needed the most at times. After she had finished cleaning up in addition to all of her other chores, she went to bed early. 

You might wonder why Amity had to do all of these things. You have seen already that Amity was not considered a daughter in the Spencer household; instead, she was a servant. Shortly after Cassia Spencer's death, Edward Spencer had disowned his daughter, and so here she was, working for him and his imbeciles of guests (and relatives). Her father never remarried, Amity recalled afterwards. She closed the kitchen door gently behind her, careful not to make a sound in the process, and ran quickly to the stables, her feet skimming lightly over the dewy green grass. 

Overhead, the sky had turned a dark sea green, almost black. That signaled Amity that a storm was coming. Very soon. Finally, she reached the safety and warmth of the barn. Shivering slightly, she wrapped her cloak more tightly around her. The air had started to turn damp and cold. She heard the horses neighing again. "Hold on, I'm coming," she said softly, making her way through the darkness by feeling the bales of hay stacked on top of one another to the right side of her. When she had finally reached the end of the hay bale wall, her shoes hit something solid. She picked it up - "it" turned out to be a bucket full of carrots. Possibly one of the servants had set it out yesterday evening while I was in the kitchen, she figured. One by one, she fed the horses carrots, and one apple slice each. After she was done, she quietly went back inside the house.  
  
  


Meanwhile, at the castle . . .  
  
"This is outrageous!" King Pedro exclaimed. "If my son can't find himself a bride, then I might as well FIND him one!" 

"Your sire, please calm down," pleaded Boris, the royal vizier. "Perhaps we could hold him a ball?" 

The king's eyes lit up. "A ball?" he cried. "Boris, you're a genius! An absolute genius! We could hold him a Commencement Ball in celebration of him graduating from school and have every young lady in the whole entire kingdom attend! Then he could chose one of them as his bride!"

 "Shall I alert the palace crier and prepare the bill announcing the ball?" Boris queried. 

"Yes, and make the ball close to his birthday!" King Pedro clearly couldn't wait until the night of the ball, and also the night when his son would chose his bride.  
  
  


The next day:  
  
DING DONG! Amity stopped washing the dishes and leaned against the wall, taking slow, deep breaths all the while. Her father was talking to the royal postman at the door. After a few moments, Mr. Spencer then closed the door and examined a piece of blue paper, clearly an invitation to the ball, in his hand. "AMITY!" he bellowed. "COME HERE THIS INSTANT!" She froze for a moment, and then ran out of the kitchen, into the grand foyer of the house. 

"Yes, Father?" she asked timidly, but her voice held a tone of defiance in it. Edward Spencer never spoke to his daughter unless it was absolutely necessary. And it looked like it was one of those rare times. Sometimes she was amazed on how her father still remembered her name; it seemed so long ever since he had last spoke to her, and that was only three months ago. But then again, time passed by like a greatly slow snail to Amity. He held up the blue paper so that Amity could read it. 

Her eyes trailed down the words very quickly; she was quite a fast (and advanced) reader for her age. Then she lifted her eyes up off the page and rested them on her father. "It's an invitation to the prince's Commencement Ball. He's going to choose a - " her heart nearly stopped. "Me? Go to the ball? But the prince isn't going to choose me!" 

"May he will, may he not," her father replied. He sighed. "Listen, Amity. Listen very carefully. Even if the prince DOESN'T choose you to be the future queen, you'll always forever be and remain my daughter. A Spencer." Amity's eyes filled with tears, but she furiously blinked them back just in time. 

Edward continued. "I want you to go to that ball, Amity. Enjoy yourself. Act like a Spencer, not a servant. I'm sorry, Amity. I ought to have not disowned you. You just remind me so much of your mother and me. And our memories together." The girl sighed. She had no idea whether to forgive or not to forgive her father. 

He had pushed her away, true; and had disowned her, but only out of grief, loneliness and a tad bit of depression on his part. But then again, he had set her to be a servant in her own house . . . Yet the righteous part of her won. Again. She had to forgive him, didn't she? Sure, he had disowned her and made a servant, but at least she'd been given food and a roof over her head. That was what she was most thankful for. Her father had been a little merciful, which Amity was very grateful for. She took a deep breath and let it out. "I forgive you, Daddy." It hit her like a bucket of cold water that she hadn't called him that in a very long time. And apparently Mr. Spencer remembered, too. "Would you like to go to the ball, Amity?" he asked. 

She smiled faintly. "Sure, just as long as I get to make my own dress." 

"It's a deal." And both of them cried together.


	2. Part 2: The Ball Attire

Disclaimer: Well, "Cinderella" certainly isn't mine, but the CHANGED plot belongs to me, as do everything else. So do me a favor and don't land yourself in jail for life by stealing other people's things. And please review! 

  
Part 2: The Ball Attire  
  
The next day, Eric was awakened by his servants at six o'clock in the morning. A prince's job never ends, he thought with a sigh. Nor is it ever done. Prince . . . princess. Eric's eyes shot open. The ball! It was tomorrow! And I'm supposed to choose a bride. He sighed again. Why me? he thought in despair. Why do I have to be the one who's the prince of a grand kingdom? Why do I have to be the one who's married? Or actually, the one who's SUPPOSED to be getting married? Never had Eric's spirits sank so low as they did on that day in September. The fifteenth of September, he reminded himself cynically. Now come on, get out of bed and get ready for *groan* Father's dress inspection. Before he went to the showers, however, he was stopped short by something - or rather, someone - outside. Eric went over to the window and peered out, careful not to let the other parts of his body besides his face, be made visible. What he saw nearly made his heart drop. Edward Spencer. With a look-alike of him. Eric shook his head. You're going crazy from being enclosed in school for so long. That's his daughter, for crying out loud! She looks exactly like him! Except for the mouth and the nose. But one thought remained fixed firmly in his mind: How come I've never seen her before? And how come she decided to come out now?  
  
Amity was beside herself sewing her dress that evening. Earlier that day, she had gone out with her father to buy cloth material and a whole bunch of needles. In, out, in, out. The pattern fixedly planted itself in Amity's mind, and before she knew it, she was done doing the hem. Amity looked at her dress is disbelief. Just a few more stitches, and then I'll be done. It was well worth it, her conscious told her. You've been working on the dress nearly nonstop throughout the whole morning and afternoon. She put her work aside for the time being and went to get dinner ready.  
  
After dinner, Edward Spencer called his daughter down to his study. When she arrived, he began, although rather tentatively. "Amity, I've thought much about this and pondered over it many times. As much as I'd hate to say this, it must be done. Of all the things that I've done to you already, this has got to be the worst. But it ought to be done, for your own safety." 

She waited patiently, wondering all the while what her father wanted her to do. She'd figured as much. "I want you to hide yourself at the ball. Remain unseen." 

Drumroll! Amity thought sarcastically. But the full impact of his words hit her. "W-what?" she stammered. "Why do you want me to do that?" 

Her father sighed deeply. "One of my friends told me that today, you and I - especially you - were spotted by the prince. He's in a state of shock." 

Amity's eyebrows shot up. "How would he know? Your friend, I mean." 

Edward sighed. "Apparently, after he had arisen this morning, he saw us coming out of the sewing goods store. My friend saw him looking out the window when he delivered the prince's uniform." 

"So your friend's a servant at the palace?" Amity asked cautiously. 

"Yes. And during dinner, the prince was muttering 'Spencer, Spencer,' under his breath. He even asked his parents if they'd ever heard of me." After a while, he added, "Or my daughter." 

Amity's breath caught in her throat. "I see why I have to do this, Daddy, but how come even the slightest mention or the mere thought of us bother him so much?" 

"The fact that I'm more powerful than he and his entire family put together," her father said dryly. 

"And you're a doctor," Amity finished, shaking her head, but a small smile touched the corners of her mouth. 

"Now you see why you have to hide yourself at the Commencement Ball as not to attract his attention and have him know that you're there?" Mr. Spencer asked. 

"You just said why," Amity pointed out. They laughed, but her own laughter sounded hollow to Amity's ears. And her heart hurt. All her life Amity had heard about the prince (at least when she had turned ten) from her fellow servants (and friends) in the kitchen. Then one of the servants, who also happened to be her friend, showed her a picture of the prince. From that day on, Amity had been head over heels in love. 

"Hide in the shadows, Amity. Among the curtains or anything like that, that can conceal you from anyone's view, including the prince's and his family's," Edward advised his daughter. Amity knew better than to disobey him. And she really didn't want to be the object of the prince's wrath, anyway. "Okay, Dad," she agreed. "I'll do it." 

Her father smiled. "Thatta girl."


	3. Part 3: The Actual Ball

Disclaimer: Well, "Cinderella" certainly isn't mine, but the CHANGED plot belongs to me, as do everything else. So do me a favor and don't land yourself in jail for life by stealing other people's things. And please review! Author's Note: If you like Archie Comics (or Betty and Archie as a couple), please read and review my story "Who Told You? Me?". Oh, and be prepared for some mushiness ahead. P.S. Don't kill me; I know that this is nearly two months late.  
  
Part 3: The Actual Ball  
  
September sixteenth finally dawned, much to the impatience and gratefulness of the townspeople (especially the town's ladies), who had been waiting anxiously (not to mention impatiently) for this day. They could hardly wait to finish up their chores and then at 8:30, the ball would start.  
  
Prince Eric, quite frankly, wasn't looking forward to it. To tell the truth, he wasn't looking forward to it AT ALL. He examined his figure critically in the mirror. He had put on what he called his "princely" uniform: blue jeans, sneakers and a red shirt emblazoned with the words "Prince of the World" on it. He knew that his parents would get mad (actually, "mad" was quite an understatement, he thought) at him for wearing commoners' clothes, but he didn't care. He was sick and tired of being a prince, the name on the tip of everyone's tongue, and ALWAYS being in the spotlight. He just plain HATED it. His father wouldn't be as mad as his mother would be, though. Eric mentally shuddered at that thought. Queen Isabel was very self-conscious of her place holding in society, not to mention also her family's.  
  
Especially mine, Eric thought in disgust. Now she's going to blow her top off on this one. Yet, when he thought about it, he'd rather face a thousand girls saying "Prince Eric's SUCH a hottie" (a rather relevant depiction of the town's ladies) than his mother's wrath. Yep, he was a chicken-faced coward, all right. He sighed and changed into his official "princely" uniform, which happened to be his royal military uniform.  
  
Once you looked at Eric in his military uniform, you couldn't help but wonder whether you were in a dream or not. The deep blue and gold color contrasted sharply against his tawny skin, bringing out his light brown eyes more than ever. As for his hair, well, that was a whole different story. It was a light copper brown (everything was light about him, Eric thought glumly) and was rather curly. Not exactly the way a prince's hair would be. And he still had to wear those dad-gum knee-high boots. Well, here goes. He took a deep breath and walked out of his room. It was time to pass the True Test: his father's inspection. Eric groaned.  
  
Amity took in her surroundings. She was in the ballroom (where the ball was going to be held) and was currently standing by a curtain (the perfect hiding spot, by Edward's standards). She darted a quick glance all around her, and then dove behind the curtain. Thank goodness that the Livingston family wasn't in the ballroom just yet. (They were out in the Grand Hall greeting guests.) She made sure that the curtain completely hid her body, which was easy since the curtain hung down from the way top of the ceiling and it covered the whole entire wall.  
  
The reason why the curtain hung on one wall, Amity learned later, was a classic Livingston family tale. When Prince Eric was two years old, he had been playing and running around with the family's, namely his, golden retriever, Worly. Usually, the golden retriever was obedient ("Mother and Father worked their heads off training him," Eric recalled later), but that day, it decided to be naughty, playful and mischievous, whatever word you could think of. All of a sudden, Eric's two-year-old mind (which was quite advanced for his age) got a "brilliant" idea. He ran two or three times around the room - he couldn't remember exactly how many - and of course, Worly chased him.  
  
When Eric got to his fourth lap around the room, however, he made a quick swerve and landed up against the curtain on the left side of the room. Worly, of course, just HAD to follow him. The dog jumped on Eric, who fell flat against the wall and fell down, causing the curtain to tear and fall on top of the future monarch of the kingdom and the future guardian dog. Needless to say, King Pedro and Queen Isabel weren't happy when they found out. They had grounded Eric for two weeks and ordered him on both garden and kitchen duty.  
  
Amity gulped and ducked out of sight behind the curtains when she spotted the king and queen (such gracious hosts they were, she thought ruefully) heading into the ballroom (where she just HAPPENED to be in). Just in time, too. Since Prince Eric had just walked in.  
  
Boris called for everyone's attention after a few minutes of idle chitchat (very BORING chitchat, even in Boris's opinion). Then the king spoke. "Ladies and gentlemen, as all of you may or may not know, my son, Prince Eric, recently graduated top honors from the royal military school. And as his coming of age to the throne, he also has to have a future queen." Eric forced himself to stay calm and examined the list of potential princesses-to-be. Unconsciously, he let his eyes go down the list, looking for Spencer. Of course, his parents just had to keep tabs of every young, single and pretty (in his mother's case) girl in the entire kingdom! he thought irritably. And the worst part is, I have to choose one out of all these blonde bimbos. He groaned inwardly. Just then, his eyes froze on a name at the bottom of the page. Eric felt his mouth go dry. Spencer, Amity Lillian. He swallowed hard. Not in attendance.  
  
Pay attention, Livingston. Now's not the time to blank out when you're about to choose a bride. Then why was he so disappointed at the fact that Amity Spencer wasn't there at the ball?  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Boris signaling him to go and join his family. With a sigh, Eric walked out onstage.  
  
Amity sucked in her breath when she saw Eric emerge from backstage. He was just as she remembered. He looked just like he had eight years ago, only a lot older, of course. The same curly brown hair, light brown eyes, the same achingly sweet half-smile. If anything, she liked him more than ever before. Yet something was missing.  
  
Amity searched carefully, and found it. Eric's eyes had no sparkle in them. Without the brightness in his eyes, they were only a regular light brown color. Even though they had no shine in them, they still seemed to penetrate through her very soul. Eric's eyes had a very haunting effect on Amity. Idly she wondered what it would be like to be his wife. A princess, and given the job of giving the kingdom (and Eric) an heir.  
  
She exhaled sharply, and covered herself with a hood. Already she looked like Princess Jasmine in Aladdin. She had the grey hood over her head and the drab charcoal-colored peasant dress that hid her prom-like spaghetti strap green dress. Unfortunately, she couldn't hide her Jamaican sandals. Amity didn't care, though. As long as no one knew that she was there at the ball, she was fine. And it seemed like no one knew, which was good. She laid herself flat against the wall and breathed evenly through her nose. And waited.  
  
Boris watched as Manford, the royal announcer (or town crier, if you will), called out the girls' names, and one by one curtsy before Prince Eric and Their Majesties and then walk away. The prince cocked his head to one side, apparently scrutinizing them in deep thought. Just then, Boris noticed that the number of girls were odd. One was not in attendance. There were thirty- nine girls, he noted, and in total, there were forty girls in the entire kingdom (obviously, it was a small one).  
  
"And finally, Aurelia Vallis," Manford announced. A girl about fifteen years of age, Boris supposed, stepped forward. Glancing at the prince, Boris couldn't help but notice something. Eric seemed troubled. Very troubled. Anyone could see that; it was so evident. But exactly what was it that was bothering His Majesty so much? Following the prince's gaze, Boris saw that he was looking at the curtain of the left side (Boris's left, anyway) of the room.  
  
At that moment, the dinner gong rang, breaking off Boris's thoughts. Sighing, he went over and questioned the prince what was wrong. "Nothing. I'll come for dinner in a minute," was his reply.  
  
The vizier sighed; he had learned from previous experience not to persuade the prince to do anything, especially something that he hated. Even when he was little, Eric had managed to be an unbearable headache to everyone in the palace. A classic, tornado, hurricane-like, stormy, absolutely unbearable headache. Finally, after a few minutes, Boris left, leaving the prince to his thoughts.  
  
Once he was sure that no one was lurking about, Eric headed straight for the curtain that had been bothering him all night. Something - just SOMETHING - about that curtain had bothered him endlessly throughout the curtsying before him process. Ugh. What a nightmare that had been. It was a miracle that he'd lived through it.  
  
A thought lingered in his mind, however. How come HE had the feeling that someone else was there at the ball? No one else had noticed his discomfort (thank goodness), not even Boris, who probably had the keenest eyes around.  
  
Whenever he had glanced at the curtain - or rather, a pillar hidden behind it - he had gotten a sick, churning feeling in his stomach and his ears were peeled and alert for something suspicious. Somehow he just KNEW that an unwanted person was in the room, hiding. And obviously behind the curtain, he thought, wincing. Try as he might, Eric just hadn't been to shake off the quaking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He still couldn't. With a deep sigh, he continued on walking.  
  
Meanwhile, behind the curtain, Amity leaned against a white pillar, trying very hard not to shake from head to toe. If Eric just HAPPENED to find her, she'd have no idea what to do. She just prayed that he wouldn't find her. Well, ditch that plan. She bit her lip and braced herself for the inevitable as Eric's shadow loomed closer, reflecting off of the moonlight and onto the marble floor. All Amity could do now was wait and go through the questioning that was sure to follow.  
  
Eric stopped suddenly. What if he was wrong? Sometimes his imagination had caused him to be grounded and all the grown-ups to shake their heads in disappointment. Why was I born with a runaway imagination? He was only two steps away from the pillar when once again, he stopped dead in his tracks. Why was he so hesitant? One thing for sure, he wasn't scared. Timidly he reached out, snatched the curtain and pulled it away - and found out that he couldn't move.  
  
Amity's eyes flew open (funny, she hadn't even noticed that they were closed) and just discovered that all the moving parts in her body were frozen. She risked a glance at him, and visibly grimaced at the look on Eric's face. It was one of pure and utter surprise. He was caught off-guard by ME, she thought in disbelief. He's scared of ME. Just because of Dad's reputation. She shut her eyes, exhaled deeply and opened them again. The surprised look on his face had disappeared, only to be replaced by one of anger. Fake anger, Amity decided, looking at him closely.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Eric asked in a hoarse voice. "You're not supposed to be here if you don't have a pass!"

"Oh, really? Since when?" Amity crossed her arms together.

His eyes narrowed. "Since rich girls like you came prancing in as if you owned the place. When did you come, anyhow?" His eyes drilled through hers.

She swallowed. You're not scared of him, silly! Repeat after me, you're NOT scared of him! She took another deep breath. Okay, case closed. You're scared of him. "7:50." He raised his eyebrows. "Really."

She mock glared at him. "Really."

"How come your father didn't come?" Now Eric was starting to get a little curious. "He was busy. Besides, why would he go to a Commencement Ball for the prince? He's got a lot of paperwork, not to mention a ton of patients' lives in his hands." Amity snapped.

Eric held up his hands in mock surrender. "Easy there, girl. No need to get your shirt all tied up in a knot."

Amity closed her mouth and looked at him. "Shut up," she said at last.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, catching her off guard.

She nodded her head. "Fine." She took his hand and let him lead her to the dance floor.  
  
Eric, meanwhile, was having trouble on where to place his hands. Amity had to smile a little at his awkwardness. Stifling a snicker, she guided his hand to her waist. Laughing nervously, Eric let her put her head on his shoulder and they danced for the rest of the night. He didn't even care that he had missed dinner. Just a simple case of simplicity, Amity thought to herself. We're weird. Now that seemed simple enough.


	4. Part 4: The Courtship

Disclaimer: Well, "Cinderella" certainly isn't mine, but the _changed plot _belongs to me, as do everything else. So do me a favor and don't land yourself in jail for life by stealing other people's things (or doing anything else bad for that matter).

Author's Note: After two years . . well, this is finally being updated. Yay? And as for the really really long time for updating – well, it's been a lot of things. Things that I can't even put on paper. No excuse, I know . . maybe this chapter will help?

This goes out to my dear friend, **Madiha**, who's always been there and a tremendous support. Here's your (_very _belated) birthday present!

- - -

Part Four: The Courtship

- - -

The eve of September seventeenth was a day Amity Spencer would never forget. It was the day she got engaged to the prince, Eric Livingston.

Just thinking of last night brought a sleepy smile to her face and a brightness to her eyes. She couldn't believe that she had actually _danced_ with Eric Livingston. Of all the people in the world!

Sighing with contentment, she slept.

- - -

Edward Spencer breathed a sigh of satisfaction when he dropped his pen down on the paper. He was very happy today because one, Amity and Eric had hit it off (_just barely_, he thought, suppressing an amused grin) last night at the ball, and two, he had gotten his heavy load of work done just in time to hear his friend's (who _coincidentally _happened to be Manford) account of what had happened then, and what was going to happen that day.

"Last night," Manford said now, "Prince Eric and Lady Amity danced all throughout the evening and therefore missed dinner. Much to Queen Isabel's dismay," he added, making Edward grin. "King Pedro didn't mind, considering that he had watched them dancing until late at night, when Amity left Eric."

What Manford was careful _not _to add was the fact that Eric had been left with a deep ache inside him that he just couldn't explain. And how did Manford know of that? Looks told everything a person needed to know, and more, he thought. They expressed everything yet told nothing. They weren't meaningless; they were meaningful.

And Manford felt that when it came to Amity, Eric would let go of everything he had with no regrets, as long as he had her. The look on his face when Amity had left, one of devastation and beyond heartbreaking emotions that he had been feeling, had told Manford everything.

"But in her haste to go," he continued, "Amity left a sandal behind. Eric didn't have to bother on finding out the sandal's owner, since he already knew whom it belonged to." Manford finished.

Edward couldn't help but grin widely at this.

- - -

Eric sighed softly and looked out his bedroom window. It had been a full twenty four hours last that he had seen Amity. Now he wondered what would happen next, what Amity would choose.

After the ball, Eric had gone to sleep at one o'clock in the morning. As much as he tried to sleep, he couldn't. He kept thinking about Amity; the way she had dressed, how she looked, all lit up with a quiet happiness that shone in her eyes and her smile, when she had put his hand on her waist . . Eric groaned and shook his head.

Even if he was smitten with her, he was pretty sure that she wouldn't go for it. He was, after all, scared of the Spencer reputation. Just because the Spencers were more widely known than Eric himself was, it wasn't really a smart reason to be scared of the Spencer family's reputation. It was, in fact, a silly reason. He shouldn't have been scared of them at all. They were equal to all of the townspeople – and the royal family, too.

_So what now?_ Eric looked at the sandal. He already knew who "Cinderella" was; he just wasn't sure if _he _was the ideal Prince Charming for her.

He sighed again, and closed his eyes. Taking a few steady deep breaths, he opened his eyes and steeled himself. Eric was ready for heartbreak.

- - -

"Amity! Amity!" someone shook her gently. "Wake up and look at this notice from the Palace!"

Amity awoke and groaned upon seeing the look on Lilith's face. Lilith also happened to be a kitchen maid and Amity's sole friend. "What is it, Lilith?" she grumbled sleepily.

"Master sent me up here to give this to you, Amity," Lilith explained excitedly. She handed an envelope over to the other girl. "It's from the Palace, he says."

"The Palace?" Amity gulped silently. _So it_'_s from Eric_. Yet for some particular reason, she didn't mind. "You may go, Lilith."

- - -

Amity looked at the envelope in her hands. She wondered what it contained inside. A marriage purposal? But that was too hopeful, even for her. After all, why would Eric want to marry an ordinary common girl when he could have, well, anyone he wanted? But . . . she sighed deeply. Was _she _the right girl for him or not? Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't. She wanted to scream; she couldn't stand any of this.

Then what was it? Eric had told her last night that he was expected to make his choice on his bride and future Queen the very next day; and today just so happened to be that day. Amity wasn't sure what to feel; should she just watch while he went off with the woman of his dreams? She bit her lip; now she just didn't know what to do, what to think, what to feel. Would she stop him? Or would she let him gallop off with his bride?

Amity sighed, the turmoil of emotions running through her starting to drive her stark raving mad. If she let them get to her any more she knew and was sure she would go insane and suffer from self doubt for the rest of her life. And most likely have breakdowns. She winced at that image.

She was surprised on how much this little envelope was driving her crazy! _So just go ahead and open it then!_ Her mind scolded her gently.

She carefully opened the seal on the envelope and took the letter out of it. She sucked in her breath – this couldn't be real. It just couldn't.

But it was.

_Dear Amity_,

_You_'_re probably wondering why I_'_m writing you this_, _especially after what happened last night_. _You chose the perfect time to leave_, _really_.

Amity couldn't help herself and smiled.

_Thanks to that_, _I didn_'_t get the chance to tell you this_. _So now I_'_m writing it to you_, _with a glimmer of hope that you won_'_t scorn me – or worse_, _not feel the same way_.

She swallowed at this, and, in spite of herself, read on.

_Amity_, _I love you_. _Really and truly I do – this is no prank or sick joke_. _It_'_s the truth that we both don_'_t want to confront – but we have to_. _There_'_s no use in denying or avoiding it_. _No matter much how we want to_.

_And perhaps_, _if you allow me_, _can I have your hand in marriage? Alright_, _I_'_ll just come right out and say it_. _I love you_, _Amity_, _and will you marry me?_

_You_'_re probably surprised at the way I sprung this suddenly on you_, _and for that I_'_m sincerely sorry_. _But I cannot deny it any longer_. _I_'_m in love with you_, _Amity Spencer_, _and there_'_s no way that I_'_m going to deny this_.

_I_'_ve thought long and hard about this_, _and I_'_ve never felt so sure of anything in my life that came close to this_. _I need you_, _Amity_. _Like a person needs oxygen_, _a breath of fresh air_, _peace_, _quiet_, _love_ _– I need you_.

_-- Eric_

Amity closed her eyes and swallowed again. Eric loved her? Her, of all people? And he didn't even _care_ that he loved a Spencer, someone who happened to be Edward Spencer's daughter. He loved _her_.

_And he needs me_. Her eyes grew blurry. She blinked, and all was clear again. A few surprised tears escaped her eyes and ran down her cheeks. _And I need him too_.

Without even bothering to brush away the tears, Amity slid down against the wall she'd been leaning against and sat there on the floor, crying softly until the dawn vanished from her window. Her room was locked the whole morning after that.

- - -

Eric looked at the sprawling mansion that lay before him, and gulped silently. It wasn't that he was afraid – no, quite the contrary, as a matter of fact.

He was very uncertain of what Amity's reaction would be when he asked – hopefully he _would _ask – her to go on an outing with him. He wondered vaguely if she was reading his letter at that very moment, and felt a twinge of apprehension and nervousness hit him full force.

With a faltering by the minute resolute look on his face, Eric knocked on the Spencers' front door. He knew what he was about to do – maybe even possibly risk – and he was prepared for it. No matter what, he decided, he would have Amity as his wife, come December.

Amity rubbed her eyes and carefully stood up, as to not disturb her numb foot. She was a real mess; if Eric had seen her that moment, though, he would have thought of her even more beautiful than he knew she was.

She smiled softly at that thought.

_That afternoon –_

Amity's nut brown hair was a tumbled mess of tangles now; she couldn't help noticing, and tried not to grimace at the thought of combing through it.

Then her face took on a look of extreme sadness; she was remembering her mother. Cassia Spencer had handed down to Amity the infamous murderously knotty hair that the Spencer women were so well known for.

Even though Amity was very annoyed with her hair, it was the only feature that she had inherited from her mother. She sighed and set to work on untangling her knotty hair.

She'd been brushing her hair for only a few minutes when she heard a distant knock pierce the silence, echoing throughout the house. Or so it seemed.

Amity felt the blood rush to her head when she peered out the window to see who it was. Her ears were pounding – Eric was at the door.

And god, didn't Amity ever want to see him as much as she did at that moment.

- - -

Lilith ran out of the kitchen and managed to gracefully open the door in record time. "Good afternoon, Your Majesty," she said, not looking the least bit taken aback. "Why don't you come in and warm up a bit? It's awfully windy and cold outside."

"I agree. September is usually never this cold," Eric commented. He walked into the house and Lilith shut the door after him, making sure not to lock it.

"Whom do you wish to see, Your Majesty?" she asked.

"Please, call me Eric," he said kindly. "I am not to be addressed as anything but Eric in this house. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Your – I mean, Eric," Lilith quickly corrected herself.

"Good." He gave a little smile. "Is Miss Amity Spencer here? And if so, I wish to see her."

Lilith hesitated. Should she tell him about the intense grief he had caused Amity? Would he even want – or wish – to see her in the aftermath of her crying? Then she mentally slapped herself for even having that thought in her mind. It was plain to see that Eric loved Amity very much – and she did in return. He would love her even when her appearance was messy and very wild-looking, Lilith knew.

With that last thought embedded firmly in her mind, she cleared her throat and spoke. So _what_ if Amity would kill her for this; that girl deserved all the happiness the world could offer, and most importantly, what Eric offered. "She's here. If you'll please follow me, I'll take you to see her."

Right now, at that moment, nothing else warmed her heart than to see the happy smile on Eric's face. "Lead the way, Miss . . ." He drifted off.

"Lilith," she smiled. "My name is Lilith."

"Well then, lead the way, Miss Lilith," Eric said, returning her smile with one of his own.

- - -

Amity felt herself to be a lot calmer after a few minutes of straightening herself up. She wondered vaguely who had answered the door – had it been Lilith? She'd distantly heard voices – Lilith's and Eric's. And at that thought, she felt herself stiffen. Even _thinking_ about him was painful now.

Even though Lilith had been there lots of times whenever Amity went into one of her crying fits, Amity was secretly glad that Lilith had not been with her through this one. She may have had seen Amity's very messy appearance a countless number of times, but it was sure as hell that Eric hadn't.

Amity looked at herself in the mirror and found herself to be presentable. Her eyes were still tinged with red, but that would disappear soon if she didn't rub them vigorously or cry herself out again. Her nut brown hair was now tangle free (save for a few stubborn knots, but that couldn't be helped) and now her face was shining with life.

Wait a minute! What if Eric _wasn_'_t _here to see her? Not her, but her father? Or maybe he was here to ask her father something, and then see her afterwards. It was plausible. Amity sighed deeply and was startled when there was a sharp knock on the door.

She rushed over to open it and had to swallow back her shock and curiosity at the sight of Eric. "What is it, Lililth?" she asked politely, pretending that all was normal and fighting down the urge to just run over to Eric and hug him so tightly – and never let go.

The servant girl bowed slightly. "His Majesty wishes to talk to you about something. He says that it's urgent."

"Fine by me," Amity replied. "Please come in, Your Majesty. Lilith, you may go."

The girl nodded, and left.

Amity knew that she was defying tradition and committing a serious offense in etiquette by letting a male into her room, but right now at the moment, she just didn't care.

She held the door open for him and then once he was inside, shut it. After a few minutes of awkward silence, she finally broke it and asked in a level voice, her heart pounding erratically when she looked at him, "what are you doing here?"

"I came to ask you something," Eric said quietly. It was then that Amity noticed that Eric was in his normal, "princely" attire – a.k.a. his royal military uniform.

"And what is it?" she suddenly felt a lump form in her throat.

Eric looked directly at her, their eyes meeting in an intense gaze. He swallowed hard. "I've come to ask your hand in marriage," he said quietly. Somehow, those brown eyes of his still gave Amity a tingle and left a warm, giddy feeling in her heart.

When he said this however, her heart and mind came to a total and complete stop. He'd come for her hand in marriage? As much as Amity's buzzing brain refused to accept it, she knew she had to. And she _wanted _to. She knew Eric loved her, and that she loved him back. They would both go to the ends of the earth just to make the other person happy – even if, in the end, they weren't together.

But there was one slight (Amity scoffed at that) problem. A boundary that both Amity and Eric knew that once they crossed it, it would be unacceptable to the townspeople, not to mention to society.

The thought of even crossing it was forbidden and shameful. Both of them knew this. But they were willing – more than willing – to risk the townspeople's and society's wrath, and cross the boundary – the line that held society and social classes together. The edge between royalty and ordinary, plain paupers (and not quite paupers, yet not quite rich either, Amity reflected), the line between rich and poor – whatever one wanted to name it.

They also knew that if they crossed it, there would be no turning back. They couldn't back out of this, what they had, even if they wanted to. They were willing; they would do this, no matter what it took.

"Eric?" Amity asked softly. He raised his eyes up from the floor, which he had been avidly staring at, to meet up once again with Amity's. Right after he had asked for her hand in marriage, he'd immediately dropped his gaze down to the floor, not wanting to meet her eyes, waiting patiently for her answer.

"Yes?" he said hoarsely, his eyes holding despair and something else within the brown depths. And that was fear.

He thought that she was going to reject him! Amity wanted to laugh at that thought. If she didn't love him, she wouldn't even reject him then still; she knew she wouldn't. And it wasn't any different even when she loved him – which she did.

Amity took his hands in hers and looked at him imploringly. Then she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Eric braced himself for her answer.

"I would love to marry you, Eric." And she gave him the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

It took only a second for that to register in his mind, and when it did, Amity couldn't describe in words what the look in his eyes and his facial expression said. "Amity . . ." was all he could say.

"Really, Eric, you didn't think that I would reject you now, did you?" Amity lifted an eyebrow at him. "I love you, so I would say yes quicker than a heartbeat." Realizing then what she had just accidentally said, her eyes widened while Eric's eyes filled with gentle amusement, and her hands flew up to her mouth.

He laughed tenderly and took her hands off her mouth, clasping one of them with his own.

"I know," was all he said.

Amity only put her arms around him, and cried with happiness.

"Just so you'd know – I love you too," he whispered, softly enough for her to hear.

Amity only smiled softly at him, giving him her answer.

- - -

Edward's eyebrows shot up. "Oh? So you wish to marry my daughter?" He tried to keep the shock mixed with glee that he was feeling from creeping up in his voice.

"Yes, Mr. Spencer," Eric confirmed firmly, his eyes bright and serious. "I can assure you with all my heart, and everything I have, that I love her, and I want to marry her."

"Hmm . . . so I see." Edward clicked his tongue and sat back in his chair, scrutinizing Eric. Although Edward knew that Eric was the only one for Amity, he didn't want to cause – or risk – his daughter suffering again. Especially because of him.

"Don't misunderstand me, Eric," Edward folded his glasses, "it's Amity's decision and judgement that will ultimately determine whether you will marry her or not." He smiled faintly.

"I cannot choose for her. But – have you and Amity talked this out? About what you're going to do if you get married? And how your life would be after that? You'll be living a double life, Eric. One of a king, the other of a father." He sighed deeply. "And trust me on this – it's no easy task. I learned that the hard way." A bitter smile crossed his face.

Amity was quiet at this; she knew exactly what her father was talking about. Although she should've said _who_, not what. She couldn't help but wonder where this was going, and what her father was going to say next.

Edward saw the impassive look on her face and looked at Eric. "You're wondering where I'm going with this, right? Well," a bittersweet smile flit across his face, "perhaps it would help if you sit down, and I can tell you the whole story."

Eric obliged, sitting himself comfortably in a nearby chair, and waited. Meanwhile, Edward headed over to a side window and stared out. Finally, after a few moments, his voice broke the silence. "You know how I learned this the hard way, Eric? I went through a similar thing as you're going through just now . ." he sighed deeply. "Only I hope your situation does not turn out the same way mine did."

Puzzled, Eric sat up straight and listened with rapt attention. "What do you mean, sir?"

Edward smiled slightly. "Just listen, boy. And you'll find out all you need to know."

So Eric listened, and hesitantly, so did Amity.

Taking a sip of his strong black coffee, Edward began, his voice trembling slightly at first.

"It all started when I met Amity's mother, Cassia, at a social party." He turned to Amity now. "Your mother, Amity, was the most amazing person there ever was. She was unlike anyone I had ever met. She was my comfort, my joy, my strength, my friend . . my life." He smiled sadly in remembrance for his deceased wife.

Amity didn't say anything; she wasn't sure what to say, how to react. And telling from the look on his face, Eric didn't, either.

Edward went on, not noticing the looks on Eric and Amity's faces, instead being absorbed in his own thoughts.

"And soon," he continued, eyes going glassy, "I found myself falling in love with her, and she with me. After we went on some outings, I asked her parents if I could marry her. They said yes immediately, knowing and seeing the love that Cassia and I had for each other."

He paused. "And then when she died, that's when I fell apart. I wanted to stop living, and be in the afterlife with her. But . . ." he shook his head, "what good would that do to me? I'd be with Cassia, but I wouldn't have Amity in my life. I'd be torn away from her.

"And so I realized I had to keep on living. It was selfish of me to go and waste my life away in sadness, loneliness and yearning for the one thing, the one person I couldn't have in my life. Eventually, somehow, I got over her death," he smiled faintly, "because she rescued me from a potential mistake I was going to do, and she made me realize how horrible I was being to Amity. I wasn't being her father. The sole main support she had in her life."

He sighed deeply. "And after I realized what a selfish person I was, I decided not to remarry. In spite of everyone I knew pressuring me to marry again so Amity could have a "real mother" and a "real family," I decided not to. As far as I was concerned, Amity and I were a real family. And even though Cassia was no longer alive, she was Amity's real mother, and the only one she would ever need.

"And unfortunately, my selfishness had come at a price. Angry and brooding, I sealed myself up and shunned Amity– I disowned her. That was the greatest mistake I've ever done in my life. I was lucky enough – more than lucky enough – to realize just in time what a fool I was, and to have Amity give me a second chance, and let me be her father."

Eric was stunned – he had never known this, nor had he bothered to find out. He looked at Amity, and was surprised to see tears trailing down her cheeks. Now he knew why Amity acted the way she did, and what had made her act that way.

"So now you know the history of my family," Edward gave out a sharp, bitter laugh.

He fixed a stern gaze on Eric. "Mind you, it's Amity's decision whether you're the one she wants to marry or not, but . ." his voice trailed off. "You're allowed to court her. Marrying her, we'll see with time. Not that I don't trust you, Eric, but I want you to know that if anything, and I mean _anything_, happens to Amity, or you do something to her, you'll be personally responsible for it."

"I understand, sir," Eric replied calmly, glancing at Amity out of the corner of his eye every so often.

"But," Edward said, his eyes twinkling, "consider yourself and Amity engaged from now on."

They could only look at him, speechless. And before Amity even realized it, she was picked up and being spun around by Eric. "_We_'_re engaged! We_'_re engaged!_" He sang joyfully, eyes sparkling at her.

And she knew hers sparkled back.

Edward only chuckled and left, thinking it was now or never before Eric made his move.


End file.
